Somehow
by Rookey
Summary: It started out with a petty heist gone awry that had the notoriously illusive "Phantom" fleeing from the North Atlantic all the way to the Florida Straits. He's on the run: starving, exhausted, and desperate – and willing to try new things. Talk about feeling like a fish out of water. Mer!Danny AU.
1. Optimism vs Pessimism

Somehow

Optimism Vs. Pessimism: The Make-or-Break of a Summer Vacation

* * *

Where is my heart beating  
Somewhere under that water?  
If I dive, will I get over  
Will I join the deep?

 _Civil Twilight (modified)- "Story of an Immigrant"_

* * *

 _The water was warm. Too warm. He could feel the heaters working overtime to counteract the chill of his body, rising up in steam clouding the inside of the sealed tank._

 _There wasn't much oxygen here, and although that was fine and good for now, he knew somehow that it wouldn't be for long._

 _Phantom couldn't believe he let this happen. Couldn't believe he fell right into the clutches of these humans. He trusted them, and they silenced him by sealing him inside a tank he knew would eventually kill him._

 _He could see them staring at him through the thick glass of the tank, eyes narrowed into slits and brows drawn together in betrayal. It looked like they were arguing. Mouths forming words he couldn't hear. He didn't care, though – he was miserable. Trapped in a tank, held captive by these humans for reasons he couldn't bring himself to fully understand._

 _Somehow, he ended up here. And somehow, he was going to get out._

 _Glancing at the stunned-looking dark haired girl whose expression was a mixture of hurt and wonderment, Phantom felt a glimmer of hope residing in those odd violet eyes that gave almost nothing away._

 _He knew her._ _And Phantom also knew that through her, he had his out. But it would take time._

 _Time he wasn't sure if he had._

* * *

 _Before._

* * *

"I have no idea why you're so adamant about this, Samantha."

"Mom."

"I mean just look at all of the other beneficial, _useful_ ways for you to use your time and talents—"

"Mom."

"—You could do so many other things, Sammy. You're a smart girl; you're doing so well. Your father and I are well enough off that you don't require—"

" _Mom."_

 _"_ —A scholarship. Honestly, we both would rather you stayed away from practices civilized women shouldn't bother themselves with. If you—"

" _MOM."_

"— _Would trust us."_ Palma Manson sighed heavily, sweeping a primly manicured hand through rich strawberry blonde curls. "We could come to a compromise. Honey, we're your _parents_. We know what's—"

" _Don't,_ " Sam held up a hand, glowering, fed up with this months-old argument. It was stale. It was old-news, ancient history. "Don't pull that… _crap_ with me, Mom. We've talked about this before. _I_ know what's best for me – and your input is unnecessary."

Palma bristled at the biting comment, an afterthought on her daughter's part but no-less insulting. "Now you listen here, young lady. I'm your _mother._ I can call this whole _escapade_ off anytime _I want to—"_

"No you can't." Sam stated, a low, bitter chuckle reverberating through her vocal cords. "I'm _eighteen._ You can try as much as you want – I'm not giving up this internship just because you don't agree with it."

"But it's the Fentons _,_ Sammy. The _Fentons._ Those lunatics are disgraceful. Crazy. They're _obsessed,_ Samantha. I don't want to expose my daughter to the likes of _them—"_

 _"The likes of them?!"_ Sam exploded, feeling on some level personally attacked by her mother's words. "Mother. Maddie and Jack Fenton are _geniuses._ They're the best marine biologists in the country. Arguably the best in the _world!_ You have no _idea_ how hard it was to land an internship with them. I'm not giving this up, I don't care _what_ you have to say about it."

"You will when this bites you in the ass, Samantha Nicole Manson!" Palma hissed at her daughter, sensing that she had lost this argument – her previous neutral and condescending stance souring into something more hostile. "Your father and I do not support this. We'll find a way to get through to you, Samantha. You best be ready for it."

"Try me." Sam stated, nonplused. Palma did this often – making threats she never kept. Although she talked a big talk, the redheaded woman couldn't hurt a fly.

She'd probably hire someone to do it for her.

"I'm keeping that internship, Mother." Sam stated, standing from her seat with a scowl, shaking the flimsy outdoor garden table she and her mother were seated at. "That's final."

Sam left before Palma could utter another word. _God,_ her mother could be so _ignorant._ Didn't she understand just _how big_ of an opportunity this was for Sam? It took months for Sam to land this internship. _Months._ She's talked with countless interviewers, filled out innumerable applications, and submitted every credential she could think of to even be considered for the position.

The Fentons needed only one intern. That intern would be paid, of course, but their job was to help the Fentons in their studies. Hundreds of people along the coast of Florida applied. Most of them were college students. Some of them were graduate students. All of them specializing in one particularly alluring field of study that qualified them for the job: marine biology. Competition was, to say the least, _aggressive._

So when Sam got a call saying she, a rising high school senior, got the internship, she was beyond excited. She expected her parents to be too, but when her mother joined her at their garden table as Sam was enjoying the beautiful early summer sun, apparently that wasn't true.

And it made Sam _mad._

She thundered into the house, chunky black boots leaving harsh brown footprints on her mother's pristine floors. Sam was making a mess. She didn't care. She only had one thing in mind.

She charged up the stairs and shoved the door of her bedroom open. Grabbing her purse and her keys, Sam left the house in a rage, pulling her car out of the long sloping driveway far faster than she should have.

"' _The likes of them.'"_ Sam mocked in a growl, knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel with enough power to crush titanium.

Honestly, Sam didn't care whether or not her parents supported her success. Her parents never supported _anything_ she did. That wasn't new. If their dreams were realized, Sam would be some complacent housewife to some wealthy douchebag of her parents' choosing. She had practically lit that idea on fire the second it was brought up.

No, she wasn't upset about their adverse reaction to her success.

She cared about what they thought of the Fentons.

The Fentons, those "crazy lunatics", were the only _dammed_ reason this town showed up on a map.

Amity Park was already small. It was a fishing town on the coast of Florida, about four-and-some-odd hours outside of Miami. It was small enough to be largely overlooked.

Although hardly a tourist destination, Amity Park was known for its spectacular beaches and marine life. Which of course, is why the Fentons moved here in the first place. Granted, they didn't move far. Key West wasn't too far away from Amity Park, after all, however Amity's shores had a notable leg up on Key West that neither Fenton could deny.

Since their move thirteen years ago, Amity Park's success had skyrocketed. Most of the world admired the Fentons in the same way Sam did – they were leading scientists in their field. They were reputable, absurdly smart, and the most successful independent team of scientists out there.

Getting this internship meant that Sam would be thrust into the world of marine biology by working in close quarters with the some of the best in the _world_.

And _dammit,_ she was going to let that kind of an opportunity pass her by.

She was on the road for about ten minutes before she finally pulled into a run down parking lot in the on the coast of nearly-nowhere. She stopped the car and flung herself out of it, breathing deep, calming breaths as she stepped onto the beach.

This was her spot. Sam always ventured to this small, nearly abandoned shoreline to calm down after a blowout. It was a rocky beach with rough sand, therefore making it a great ward against passerby and tourists. The uneven shoreline was littered with tide pools, often flickering with life within. Jagged rocks of all sizes tore from the ground like deadly talons and the water itself was always just a notch too cold for swimming.

This beach was one of the harshest ones Amity had to offer.

And Sam loved it.

Sitting down in the damp sand she sighed, eyes flickering to the horizon.

It was only the beginning of the summer. But Sam could already tell that this would be her best one yet, no matter what Palma had to say about it.

* * *

Don't ask him how he knew, but Phantom had the sense that this was going to be his worst summer yet.

It was bad enough that the whole Atlantic was being rocked by an incredible dry spell of fish, something that had many fleeing to colder and vaster waters - the Pacific, specifically. Phantom's few friends left for the Southern and Arctic oceans in the hopes of finding a halfway decent supply of food, however he stayed behind. Don't ask him why, either - he wasn't quite sure. Maybe the Atlantic was something of sentimental value to him, maybe he had some vain hope that perhaps without the abundance of predators stalking the ocean's dwindling supply of fish, they would make a return.

Maybe he was just crazy. That's what they told him before they left, which he took to mean "we're going to miss you" in merspeech.

So, that left him pretty much on his own. Not a problem, usually. It wasn't the first time Phantom had been left on his own - he was eighteen years old and fully capable of taking care of himself. He was sure that the fish would return to the warmer, deeper waters. Those losers that left, well, they'd see the error of their ways as soon as they saw him sitting on a pile of meaty fish carcasses he had all to himself.

He'd be a good friend, though, and let the others know when the fish returned.

That was months ago.

Lo and behold, they were nowhere to be found.

Phantom tried to get a hold of his friends - lament over the error of his ways, beg them to tell him their location, throw him a halibut because holy Trident he was _starving..._ He got nothing. No answer. _Nothing_.

It wasn't until he tried their emergency locator shells did he get any real answers. Their locations brought him to a cave not far outside of their hometown Otobata, where he found the shells strung up on a cord and tied together, tangled and buried in the sand. His friends were nowhere to be found. Ditched.

Phantom berated himself for over a week for not seeing it sooner.

He got over it soon enough, though. He wasn't that close to them anyway. That's what merfolk did - they banded together and they left people behind. Friendships didn't last long among his kind. They came and went, most schools wandering the seas in flocks of not-so-closely-knit merfolk with a common interest - in his case, finding food. There was safety in numbers and that's where the complexities ended. The only real exceptions to this rule were, of course, mates and families - neither of which Phantom had.

Regardless, there was still a major unsolved issue at hand: he was hungry. And there was nothing he could, at present, do about it.

From there, well, the story really took a rather unfortunate turn for him.

It started with a little blunder on his part. He stole a bit of food from some rich merman from a couple towns over - just enough to last a week or two or until he could steal some more from somebody else. In his defense, stealing among merfolk wasn't necessarily... _bad._ If it was out in the open and you didn't get caught, well, it was fair game.

Unless of course one accidentally steals from - apparently - one of the Atlantic's most notoriously anal land moguls and gang leaders. Who then calls for his personal bounty hunter to bring him Phantom's head on a silver platter. Who had since chased Phantom's tail from the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean all the way to the Bahamas.

When the chase started getting _way_ too close to human territory for comfort, and when he finally ran out of stolen food, Phantom finally threw in the towel after weeks of nonstop dodging spears and bullets and lots and lots of swimming with a real unexpected move.

He went where no merfolk would ever _dare_ venture.

The _surface._

Not the surface as in _land,_ surface. That concept was cringeworthy and a little too out there for even Phantom to ponder. No, the surface of the water.

Merfolk thrived in the deep. It was really the only place they could survive. The lack of sunlight, cold water and the constant pressure were must-haves for them. Their bodies acclimated to it - developing cold blood, night vision, and a weak version of sonar.

There were roomers and scary stories told among mer families and communities that the overabundant sunlight and oxygen of the surface caused delirium and insanity. Eventually, everyone said, one would become a mindless savage, resorting to hypnotism and cannibalism. They would forget who they were. Eventually, they would die.

Even if the bounty hunter - Skulker, he said his name was - knew where Phantom was, he wouldn't go to the surface. He wasn't that stupid. He'd leave Phantom for dead and swim back to Walker the Gang Lord with his tail all ruffled up exclaiming how Phantom had gone off the shallow end and went nutso.

However, the truth? Well, those stories didn't scare him. Not one bit, considering the fact that he came to the surface all the time.

Upon occasion he would even put his head above the water. Not because he needed to, he just felt... compelled to do it. Drawn to the surface. Unaffected by the atmosphere. The sunlight felt warm on his back and his eyes relished in the abundance of light and color. Often Phantom felt as if he could wash right up on the beach and leave the water forever.

He didn't really let _that_ thought cross his mind too often, though. That line of thought was a little too _human_ for him.

But there was also another reason why he came to the surface as often as he did - once every couple of months or so. Unlike other merfolk, the depths of the ocean after a while made him feel... sick. He quite frequently fell ill when in the deep for too long. Didn't know why - his guardian was the only one who had any real answers and Phantom could never get the old geezer to fess up.

It started when he was about twelve, when merfolk hit their "puberty" and grew at rapid rates. The gills on Phantom's neck and back did not grow to accommodate his maturing body, remaining underdeveloped and slightly unfit to survive permanently in an area of the ocean with such little oxygen and so much pressure. His ideal climate, his guardian had told him, was shallower sunlit waters - where other merfolk could not survive. However the risk of getting captured by humans was too great, so Phantom would have to make do with what he could and settle for visiting the surface every now and again.

It wasn't all bad though - he definitely had accumulated many stellar hangout coves and secret caves all over the Atlantic - all uninhabited by humans, all to himself.

It was where he was now, actually. Lounging in a cave on some small, uncharted island in some body of water he heard being called the "Florida Straits" or something (or maybe that was the name of the island he had found, or the group of local islands he saw nearby, or something, he didn't know) the merman finally found some semblance of peace.

The island didn't look like much from the outside. Just some shapeless mound of dirt rising just a few feet above the waterline, creating a sandbar a few miles in diameter. The tricky part about it, and why he chose here of all places to hide, was the access point. It was deceptive in the sense that no, the island he had found wasn't a useless sandbar. It was an underwater cave one could only really get to from below. It was a little dark, but Phantom didn't mind. There was a shallow cove and a beach riddled with seaweed and tide pools filled with small fish and crustaceans he could use to stunt his appetite until he could find real food.

It seemed as though the humans had fished this area out - perhaps after he took a breather, he could make his way to the Gulf of Mexico and try his luck there. Phantom didn't know any merfolk in the area, but Gulf natives were known throughout the Atlantic to be very hospitable. Warm, just like the waters. They could give him food, maybe. Spare an underwater cave for refuge. Give him a job to pay the rent?

Phantom sighed, laying his head against the rock he was perched against. He knew this spot was close to the humans - knew it too well, probably. It was probably the closest to human-inhabited waters that he has ever been. But he was in a tough spot - that hunter would stop at nothing to get Phantom's hide. Even though Phantom was the fastest merman in the Atlantic with a special skill-set up his metaphorical sleeve (and why he had earned the name "Phantom"), he was no match for Skulker in a battle of brute strength alone, which is likely what that brawl would resort to. He had to wait it out, until the whole thing blew over in the North Atlantic before making his return.

That could be weeks. Months. Until then, he really saw no other option other than fleeing to the Gulf, but what then? If he were caught there, he'd be backed into a corner, and he's made more than enough enemies in the Caribbean to eliminate that escape route as an option entirely.

He'd have to lie low. This island-cave was something, but not a lot. Phantom would have to move on eventually.

He scoffed, running a webbed and scaly hand through his shocking white hair. At least he didn't have much to loose. He didn't have a family, he didn't have friends.

Phantom had himself and nothing but time.

He suddenly grinned to himself, tearing open a clam and picking the meat out with his bare hands. Yeah, that's right. He didn't have anything to lose, did he? He no longer had any friends to tie him down. His guardian was gone. He didn't abide by Atlantis's "laws", so who was to say he couldn't hang around here for as long as he wanted? Not like any merfolk would find him. There were probably more fish here, anyway.

The only thing he really had to worry about were the humans - and they were just a mild inconvenience. One sees a merman and the others call 'em insane. Phantom could handle it. Somehow.

Right?

* * *

 **Hey all! I'm back at it again, this time with a story that I honestly totally forgot about until I found it in my computer archives a few days ago. Decided to revamp it and post it for kicks, idk. Let me know your thoughts in a review, thanks fam!**

 **Peace,**

 **Rookey**


	2. Manners 101

Somehow

Manners 101: How to Politely Decline a Dinner Invitation

* * *

Without a life vest I'd be stuck again  
Wish I was much more masculine  
Maybe then I could learn to swim

 _"Into the Ocean" -_ Blue October

* * *

"It's a fruit."

"It's not a fruit."

"Totally a fruit."

"Totally _not_ a fruit."

"Fruit."

"Bullshit. It's not a fruit."

"It _is_ a fruit. It has a seed."

"That's not a _seed,_ that's a _pit_ , Sam."

Sam sighed. Tucker could be _such_ a child sometimes. "Tucker," she said with raised eyebrows.

"Sam." He responded in a similar manner.

Sam looked the boy dead in the eye. Her eyes were narrowed and on the brink of condescending. She pinched the bridge of her nose before taking a deep breath and saying, "An avocado is a fruit."

"No it's not!" Tucker burst out, standing up from his seat and rattling the food that littered the table.

Several people in the restaurant looked towards them at Tucker's outburst, but no one said a word. They were far too used to the friendly bickering that occurred between the two on a near-constant basis to question it.

"Give it up, Tuck." Sam said. "A fruit is defined by whether or not it has seeds. An avocado has a seed. It's _clearly_ a fruit."

"It is clearly _not_ a fruit." Tucker countered. He withdrew his smartphone from his pocket and began tapping the screen. "If you can make it into a pie, then it's a fruit. Have you ever seen an avocado pie? I haven't. Avocados are _definitely not—_ oh." The teenager stared at his smartphone screen for a number of seconds, blinking every now and again.

"Still not a fruit," He finally spoke sometime later, tapping the lock button on his phone and attempting to put it away as discreetly as he possibly could. A blush lit his dark skinned cheeks. "An avocado is a _nut,_ not a fru—"

Sam cut him off by lashing out suddenly and taking his phone. She easily typed in the boy's password, earning a disgruntled " _hey!"_ from him in the process, before accessing the phone's home screen. Sam puled up Tucker's most recently visited page.

"'Avocados,'" she read off the webpage with a raised eyebrow, "'or _Alligator Pears,_ refers to the _fruit_ , botanically a large berry that contains a single seed.'"

Sam grinned in victory and handed Tucker his phone back. "If Google says it, it's fact."

"I still don't believe it."

"You don't have to," Sam stated smugly. " _But,_ since it _is,_ in fact, a _fruit,_ you now have to make an avocado pie."

Tucker suddenly looked a little pale. "Who on earth would ever _do_ that?"

Sam shrugged. "Probably someone who believes the sole distinction on whether or not something is a fruit is by their edibility if made into a _pie."_

"Witches _are_ made of wood…"

Sam rolled her eyes at the reference. "Alright, Tuck, enough of this, we got places to be."

Tucker groaned. He _hated_ leaving his food unfinished. If he was going to get an XXL Triple Nasty Deluxe Burger: _Supreme_ (limited edition, of course), he should very well be able to eat _all_ of it! No wonder Sam finished her food faster than he finished his! She ordered a salad. A _salad!_ Can you _believe_ that? The very concept of plants coming anywhere near his mouth made him feel a little green – no pun intended.

" _You_ have places to be," Tucker corrected, taking a whopping bite out of his burger, as if to determine his stance on the matter.

"Yeah, and so do _you._ Your movie starts in a half hour."

"Oh _shit,"_ Tucker gasped, dropping the remnants of his burger. "I totally forgot about that. Valerie's gonna _kill_ me if I'm late."

"Got that right. So what's it gonna be: scary girlfriend or disgusting half-eaten burger?" Sam smirked at his glare.

Tucker sighed and turned his attention to his burger. "It has been a joyous ride, my dear sweet Triple Nasty Deluxe. And although you were _supreme,_ my lady awaits, and we shall have to continue our delicious love affair..." He ran a finger along the smushed bun seductively, "... _another time."_

"You're ridiculous." Sam said with a deadpan expression.

"You think all love is ridiculous."

"I-" Sam paused for a moment. "...True. Anyway, I have a job I gotta get to and you've gotta movie to catch."

Sam and Tucker stood from the booth and threw their trash away (with Tucker wishing his hamburger one last tearful goodbye) and left the restaurant. Sam shot Tucker a "smell ya later" and Tucker responded with a simple two fingered salute as he hopped on his moped to get to his movie, which was across town.

Sam smirked at her hurrying friend. She and Tucker had known each other since they were kids - they hated each other at first, mind you, but grew fond of each other at the start of fifth grade when Sam was finally allowed to attend public school (after being thrown out of every private school her parents attempted to send her to). The duo befriended Valerie at the beginning of their Freshman year of high school, when she and her dad moved from Luistonville a few towns over after her dad got demoted from his job and they had to find more affordable housing.

It took a while for Sam to warm up to her but Tucker was head over heels. The two were making eyes at each other all throughout Freshman year and by the last day of school they stopped denying the "love birds" jibes thrown at them by their fellow classmates (and Sam herself). Come Sophomore year, the two were dating, and have been ever since.

They were ridiculous. But that was Sam - she thought that all love was ridiculous. Not _bad_ per say, just... ridiculous.

She scoffed and shook her head, unlocking her car and stepping inside. Normally she would have opted for a bike on a day as nice as today but Sam was headed to the Fenton's house for her first day at work... and the last thing she wanted to be was _late._

Punching the address into her GPS, Sam took off.

* * *

The Fenton's house really wasn't all that far from the restaurant, and quite honestly Sam was surprised she didn't see it from miles away.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting before she came to their house - they were rich, after all, so maybe something big but... _humble_ was on Sam's list of "things she expected."

That's what Jazz told her, anyway. She was the Fenton's daughter, the one in charge the intern process. Sam's never met her in person but had talked to her plenty of times over the phone, Skype, and through email. She specifically wrote, "You can start Monday, one o'clock. Here's our address, but I really don't think you'll have any trouble finding our humble abode."

Okay well, now that Sam actually got her first good look at their house, she could definitely detect the sarcasm in Jazz's last email.

The house itself was amazing. Built into the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean, the house had to be worth several million dollars. It was gorgeous: grand brick walls stretching several stories into the air topped by a gigantic observatory on the roof - large and made of glass, the observatory looked like it was built for stargazing. Sam couldn't see the other side of the house, but she wouldn't be surprised if they drilled into the cliffside and incorporated it into the overall design. Sam wondered what kind of toys they had to travel the ocean - boats, subs, whatever else.

However, there was one more thing about the Fenton's house that really made it stand out among the _other_ beautiful observatory-topped multi-story cliffside brick houses... And Sam wasn't surprised at all, come to think of it.

There were signs. Big, gigantic, enormous green and orange neon signs flashing on the front of the house screaming "FENTON WORKS" with, get this, an arrow pointing towards the front door.

At least she didn't have any trouble finding the place. Gulping, Sam stepped out of her car and walked over to the door. She stood in front of it for what seemed like an hour before finally gathering her nerves and ringing the doorbell.

* * *

Honestly, Phantom's had enough.

Okay, so, crustaceans are great. Really, Phantom wasn't a picky eater. But after twenty teeny tiny clams with a side of stale seaweed, he was just tired of it. The taste got old real fast. They were dry, no flavor. No appealing factors. And Phantom's metabolism was so fast that all the clams and seaweed really did was give his mouth and hands something to do to pass the time.

Which is why he was here, chasing a giant tuna deep beneath the waves.

These waters were odd, that's the first thing he registered. They were very clear - which made it only that much harder for him to sneak up on his prey. His pitch black scales and tail made hunting in the deep dark waters of the Atlantic a dream, however in the bright sunny waters of the "Florida Straits," he was a dead give away, like a fish out of water. He was a starving predator, and at this point a painfully obvious dark spot in the crystalline ocean. He's seen boats rushing to and fro overhead, which prompted him to dive deeper until he was kicking up sand on the ocean floor.

It wasn't too deep here, thankfully - Phantom didn't want to push his luck deep sea swimming at this point, as his gills were heaving from his prolonged game of tag with the freaky looking megalomaniacal bounty hunter. He saw no humans nearby, heard nothing - he even let out a shriek or two to see if anything would return the echo to his location. Nothing did, although there were a few blunt oblong objects lined along the ocean floor not too far from where he was - about as long as his forearm, oval shaped, possibly manmade but not a likely threat.

And this giant tuna.

Phantom must have been chasing this thing for ten minutes. It was just so damn _fast._ Sure, Phantom could catch it if he really wanted to, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself - either from other merfolk or something more dangerous. He could also sneak up on it using his special little power set, however the energy needed for _that_ stunt, well, he just didn't have. So he'd have to catch this guy the old fashioned way. Stalk, chase, kill.

"Hey," Phantom grunted in frustration as the silver fish evaded him once again. It was all open sand and water down here, making it more of an arms race than anything else. "Listen, pal. I just wanna be friends. Invite you to dinner. Meet your buddies. Does that sound so bad?" The fish flicked its tail in offense, seeming to eye him disbelievingly from two hundred feet away.

It sped off again, looping around Phantom and taking off in a different direction.

" _C'mon."_ Phantom moaned, reluctantly chasing after it. He would have _given up_ if this wasn't the best fish he's seen in weeks. And the _only_ one around here.

This thing would set him up to eat like a king for at least a week. Maybe a week and a half.

"Can't you just cut a guy a break? I'm _starving!_ _"_ Phantom called after the fish as he swam after it, pushing himself to go a little faster out of frustration.

He couldn't see it anymore. The silver sheen of its body made the damn thing tough to decipher in the clear waters. Phantom stopped and groaned, and let out a quick, high-pitched shriek.

And listened.

Like clockwork, sound waves returned. The giant soon-to-be delicious tuna wasn't that far ahead. Phantom could catch it.

But in his chase, he didn't realize that it brought him directly over the blunt and possibly human-made objects he detected earlier.

He looked down and saw them - two oblong objects sticking out of the sand, about fifty feet apart from one another. They were shiny.

Phantom could feel his curiosity getting the better of him and he sighed, chuckling bitterly. He hoped to Poseidon his dinner would still be somewhere up ahead taunting him after he was done looking at the shiny things.

He swam down to the nearest one to get a closer look. It was silver, like the fish he was trying to catch. It stuck up out of the ground like a piece of garbage, but it wouldn't budge when Phantom tugged on it. It was rounded on the top, and one side of the object was made of some shiny black plastic.

It looked new.

For some reason, he really, _really_ didn't like it.

Phantom wasn't sure what compelled him to do it, but using as much strength as his starving body would let him, he pulled the thing and forced it out of the ground, revealing a mess of wires and barnacles.

"Oh," Phantom muttered, taking one more look at the strange object he now held in his hand. "Dunno why, but I was expecting something more exciting." He threw the thing into the sand and took off after the tuna again, deciding that the other strange human thing wasn't worth his time.

* * *

Sam didn't have to wait very long before the door was thrown open.

"Sam!" The Fenton's daughter Jazz said excitedly, immediately ushering Sam inside the house. "So glad you found the place."

"Pretty hard to find," Sam deadpanned with a hint of a smile, "It's pretty hidden."

"Oh I know it. My friends can _never_ find it. Always getting lost." Jazz sniggered. "It's good to finally meet you in person, Sam. Your eyebrows, by the way, are _so_ on point."

"Really?" Sam said in surprise, reaching a hand up to them, the sudden and random compliment making her suddenly feel self-conscious. "Um... thank you?" She struggled for a counter-compliment - she wasn't good at this kind of stuff. She didn't have many girl friends for a reason.

"I like your... headband?" That was lame. But it was something.

"You do?! It's new, actually." Jazz said, running a hand along the teal fabric of the headband. It was long, wrapping around her hair and falling over her shoulders. It was pretty, she pulled it off well. "First time wearing it out, breaking it in, you know." Jazz waved her hand, smiling like Sam made her entire day.

She was one of those painful optimists, Sam could already tell. Always happy-pappy all day long. Sam shot a brief internal curse at the gods. She already had to deal with Tucker... now there was _another_ one?

"So!" Jazz clasped her hands together, smiling at Sam. She had a pretty smile, too. In fact, that's the first thing Sam noticed about her. Jazz was _pretty._ All pale skin, flaming orange hair, bright blue-green eyes and freckles. She had a "smart" look about her, like she spent all her time in the library with her face pressed into a book.

"It's your first day, so first-things-first, I should show you around." Jazz made a wide, sweeping motion with her hands and Sam finally took the time to look around inside the gigantic house she would be working in. Despite its outlandish exterior, the interior of the house was relatively normal. It was comfortable, beachy, with a large flatscreen television in the middle of the wall on the far side of the living room she was currently standing in. There was a large overstuffed whicker couch pushed up against the opposite wall with a few matching recliners on either side and a faded hardwood coffee table in the middle. It was an open-concept design, and Sam could see the spacious modern kitchen right around the corner.

What really stood out about the area, though, were the windows. They were gigantic, taking up almost the entire far wall backing up to the cliffside. It created a sort of panoramic ocean view, unlike anything Sam's ever seen.

"Yeah," Sam muttered, the view having briefly put her at a loss for words. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Great!" Jazz said, smiling at Sam's gaze. "Follow me, then. Obviously this is where we live - see that recliner? That's dad's. Don't sit on that one. Mom doesn't care though so feel free to relax wherever you want. The kitchen is right over here, _please_ help yourself to anything we have in our fridge but I'm warning you, Mom's notorious for accidentally poisoning the food so if it even looks a little iffy, don't touch it." She led the way into the kitchen and the first thing Sam saw was the large, bulky steel door on the far side. It seemed oddly out of place in the beachy-themed modern kitchen, like somebody brought a bank vault to the beach and plucked it in the sand.

"What's that?" Sam asked curiously, gesturing to the gigantic vault.

"That," Jazz grinned mischievously. It was a look she wore oddly well. "That's where we work."

"We're working in a vault?"

"Kind of." Jazz walked over to the door and cranked the circular latch. It swung open without a sound, revealing a dark staircase leading _much_ deeper than Sam would have expected.

"Is that... your _basement?"_

"It's our _lab."_ Jazz corrected. "Subterranean lab, technically. You wouldn't _believe_ how long it took to build this baby. My parents went nuts. Anyway, down we go." She took off down the stairs, leaving Sam to look after her with a look of utter disbelief on her face. Talk about eccentric, looks like it runs in the family.

She followed behind.

"So, uh..." Sam started as she descended deeper down the stairs. It was dark, and she hoped beyond hope that she wouldn't trip over her own feet. "Um... Is it just you around here?"

Jazz looked over her shoulder at Sam and shot her a smile. "Yeah. Mom and Dad told me to show you the ropes. They got a hit on a few of their marine life monitors out in the Straits, something about a big fish they've never seen before. Took one of the boats out to check it out, you shoulda seen 'em - they were _all_ worked up."

" _One of?"_

"Well _yeah_ ," Jazz laughed - high, striking, and pretty (of course). She reached the landing and rounded the corner, Sam right on her heels.

And she nearly fell over.

When Jazz said it was a "subterranean lab", she didn't mention that it was _straight out of a sci-fi movie._ Like a massive, looming cave etched into the cliffside, its large vaulted caverns hung overhead, stalagmites rising from the floor and hanging from the ceiling. The stalagmites hanging from the ceiling were obviously there by design, made into lights that cast warm shadows across the scattered tabletops, desktop computers, various fishtanks, observatory stations, random inventions and testing equipment littered around the lab.

But what really rocked her world was the enormous, huge, _gigantic underwater window_ that took up the entire "mouth" of this massive cave. She could see fish swimming to-and-fro. They weren't scared, although she was _sure_ they could see the lights from the other side of the glass. Was it one-way glass? Camouflaged?

Either way, Sam was amazed. Blown out of the water, actually.

"Of course we have more than one boat," Jazz continued nonchalantly, as if this were totally normal to her and the massive and beautiful lab didn't take her breath away. It probably was, come to think of it. "You really think my parents could be _my parents_ if they had _just one boat?"_

Well when she put it like that... Sam couldn't help it. She laughed.

* * *

Phantom almost had it. _Almost._ He even got his hands on its tailfin. Managed to scratch it. It was toying with him, but Phantom didn't care. He knew for sure he'd catch it eventually, what with his superior intellect and all.

Phantom was a merman. He wouldn't be outsmarted by a _tunafish._

Then it turned tail and _swam._ Swam so fast that Phantom didn't have a dream of catching up with it, not in his current state of malnutrition.

He wanted to scream. That was his _dinner._ That was his only hope of not going hangry-ballistic. In all his time chasing it, he's maybe seen one halibut from a distance however Phantom was a notorious gambler - he wanted the bigger prize.

That was two _hours ago._

And now the tuna was _gone._

Why was the world so against him? Sure, he was a cheater, a stealer, a troublemaker, and a liar, but did that really make him a bad person? He still deserved to eat.

He even offered to be friends. Who would turn down a dinner invitation with _him?_

Whatever. Phantom didn't need that tuna's judgement. It didn't know his life.

He's just going to ignore the fact that _tuna was his favorite._

As he skulked and lamented over the loss of his prized fish and his rapidly decreasing energy after the hours-long chase on an empty stomach, Phantom failed to see the white underbelly of a boat creeping quietly overhead.

* * *

 **There's chapter two! Still messing with the idea, thank you all for your support! Updates will be sporadic because school and yeah but they'll (hopefully) happen.**

 **I headcannon that Jazz and Jack have very similar personalities - both being a little eccentric and very optimistic. Maddie is more analytical and mischievous.**

 **Please leave a review on your way out.**

 **Peace,**

 **Rookey**


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